


this world that i found is too good to be true

by lanyon



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, What happens on Asgard stays on Asgard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy, Jane and Erik are staying on Asgard for reasons of security. Darcy is bored but her reputation precedes her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this world that i found is too good to be true

**Author's Note:**

> +yes, the title is from starship's _nothing's gonna stop us now._ i regret nothing.  
>  + **warnings** for intoxication and misunderstanding and excessive fluff.

Being on Asgard is kind of cool. In Asgard? At Asgard? Darcy’s unsure about the correct use of prepositions when in an entirely different, entirely shiny realm and she’s got no one to ask. The official party line is that she, and Erik Selvig and Jane have been brought here for their safety. For a change, it’s just regular, run-of-the-mill, human evil scientists who want to pick Erik’s and Jane’s combined brains. Or possibly pickle them. Another thing Darcy’s unsure about. Evil scientists, though. They’re more prevalent than she realised. 

The reason she has no one to ask about any pressing issues is that they have better things to do. Erik is in Odin’s vault and that’s not even a euphemism. There’s lots of shiny blue shit going on down there and Darcy wants no part of it. Jane is being given the grand tour by Thor and that is definitely a euphemism. 

Darcy would like to explore but she’s been told that she’s not allowed leave the palace on her own and she’s not even to think about sneaking out because apparently Heimdall sees all. To the best of her knowledge, he’s the Asgardian equivalent of JARVIS, but built and with armour.

It’s lonely business, being in exile. 

-

“Alone again, Lady Darcy?” 

The thing is, even wearing armour, Sif ninjas around the place. Darcy legitimately didn’t hear her coming though, God knows, she loves to watch her leave. “I was going for aloof and mysterious, Lady Sif,” she says. And then she grimaces. “And please, no ladies. I am no lady. Ladies are, like, Jane and Thor’s mom and you.”

Sif laughs softly and she shakes her head. “I assure you I’ve spent a great many years trying to shake the mantle of _lady_ but it insists on following me around.”

“I reckon it’s your pretty hair and flawless complexion,” says Darcy. It’s probably one of those things she shouldn’t say aloud but she’s going to blame the altitude for anything dumb she says while she’s here, in-at-or-on Asgard. She doesn’t even know if Asgard is up or down but there are no scientists, logical or otherwise, in the vicinity to argue with her. “Though Thor’s hair is probably prettier than yours,” she says. “Wait, no, that was rude-”

“I can’t deny it,” says Sif. She looks out over the possibly-sea, possibly-countryside far below Darcy’s window. Darcy feels kind of bad for insulting her hostess. “Thor’s hair is far prettier,” says Sif and Darcy’s startled into laughter. She didn’t realise that Asgardians had a sense of humour that wasn’t entirely slapstick. “But my hair-” Sif breaks off with a sigh and she turns to face Darcy, resting her elbow on the window-sill. “It used to be golden.” There’s something wistful in her tone. “Like a waterfall, right down to my waist.” 

Darcy frowns. “What happened?”

“Loki.”

Darcy kind of likes how that’s a legitimate, catch-all excuse for all that bad shit that goes down in every realm. “Well, you’re rocking the brunette look,” she says and it’s not even a slight exaggeration. Sif is definitely the sort of warrior-goddess Darcy would want to cosplay at Hallowe’en. Mournfully, she realises she’d probably come across more Xena than Norse badass. She looks down at her breasts and contemplates the last time she’d tried to stuff them into a corset. Traitors. Not a single person looked her in the eyes for the whole night. 

Not like Sif, who’s looking straight at her right now, with eyes that sparkle. Not literally, or anything, but she definitely looks amused. “Thank you, Darcy. So are you.”

Darcy flips her hair over her shoulder and then adjusts her glasses. “The natural look, that’s me.” She may not have Sif’s Amazonian build but she conditions, regularly. “So, what do non-warriors, non-nerds do round these places for fun?”

Sif looks at her curiously. “But you are a warrior, are you not?”

Darcy laughs. How can she not? There’ve been some murmurings about putting her on the SHIELD payroll but she’s not giving those bastards a minute of her time till they return her iPod. Apparently, AppleCare doesn’t cover acts of blatant thievery, especially if they’re government-endorsed. “Definitely not a warrior, Lady Sif.”

“But we’ve all heard about how you laid Thor low twice, within minutes of first encountering him! And he is not one to exaggerate his own failings.”

“Ah, the double-whammy,” says Darcy, sagely. “No one can stand in the face of my driving-slash-tasing skills, it’s true.” That’s probably why SHIELD wants her. That and the non-disclosure paperwork is a bitch. Darcy will be as old as Captain America by the time she finishes filling out that shit and she’s pretty sure she won’t look as good in tights when she’s in her nineties.

-

It turns out that, in-at-or-on Asgard, they do the same things for fun that they do on Earth. They eat a lot and they drink a lot and even Heimdall cracks a smile, which gives him another point on JARVIS (and Darcy feels instantly disloyal for even thinking such a thing). They make speeches, too, and throw food and great big tankards of wine around the room. It’s like something out of a Bonnie Tyler music video and Darcy loves it. 

She loves the wine, too. It’s thick and sweet and far too easy to drink. 

“Jane,” she says because Jane’s back, looking rumpled and dazed, and Darcy has no idea if that’s because of Thor or science or both. “Jane, why didn’t Thor _tell_ us they had Appletinis on Asgard? In Asgard?” She blinks. “In _Darcy_.” 

-

Darcy doesn’t remember going to bed. She doesn’t remember falling asleep. When she comes to, and the Asgardian daylight is piercing her retinas, she is completely disoriented. She’s also lying on top of someone. She’s lying on top of someone with the approximate physical characteristics of Edward Cullen. 

No, wait. No. That’s armour. 

-

Fleeing her own room is probably not the classiest response to waking up on top of a Norse goddess but they’re both fully dressed so Darcy counts that as a win in most categories and a loss in a few other categories and maybe it evens out as a draw. 

With great determination and aided hugely by the walls of the palace corridors, she goes looking for Jane. Conveniently, the good doctor is still in the banquet hall. She and Thor are passed out on some fur rug while Fandral is snoring gently under a table. 

“Jane.” It’s nigh-on impossible to hiss out a name lacking entirely in sibilants but Darcy’s tongue is largely stuck to the roof of her mouth thanks to whatever the fuck it was she was drinking last night so she manages pretty well. “ _Jane_.” She pokes Jane in the arm and _Thor_ growls. Fuck. The mind-meld is evidently complete. Darcy backs away. 

She wonders briefly if she can go to the Bifrost and tell Heimdall that she wants to go home but she thinks the only way to get there is by horseback and, frankly, octopony gives her the heebie-jeebies. 

Her compromise is to go out onto the balcony for some fresh air which, as always, is a bad, bad mistake when hungover. She looks down at herself. Rumpled t-shirt and jeans with grass-stains on the knees. Darcy’s a real catch, that’s for sure, even if this isn’t the outfit in which she ever expect to do the walk of shame. Not that there was anything shameful about waking up on top of Sif. 

She takes a few deep breaths and, once the nausea passes, she feels a little better. The facts. She should look at the facts. That’s what Jane would do, if she wasn’t currently joined at the something with her gigantic boyfriend.

What Darcy knows is that she has no recollection of the previous night. She knows that she’s fully-clothed and she’s pretty certain that even stone-cold sober, she wouldn’t be able to extract Sif from her armour without a can-opener. 

She actually feels a little better about herself. She’s pretty sure she didn’t take drunken advantage of a drunken alien. 

-

So, ninjaing is apparently an Asgardian characteristic because Darcy’s trying to find a kitchen when Frigga materialises beside her. 

“Your - majesty?” Darcy has no idea how to address her but majesty sounds good. Frigga is certainly majestic and very tall.

“I do hope you are enjoying your stay with us, Lady Darcy,” says Frigga and Darcy smiles. 

“It’s certainly an eye-opener, ma’am,” says Darcy, brightly. 

“You should make the most of your time here,” says Frigga. “So few mortals have this opportunity.”

Darcy nods eagerly. Making the most of her opportunities. She can absolutely do that. “I’ll do my best,” she says. 

Frigga smiles benignly and continues on her ethereal and badass way and Darcy lets out a breath. Before they left for Asgard, Clint Barton declared that Darcy Lewis was the person most likely to trigger a diplomatic incident, after Iron Man. 

Darcy Lewis: One, Diplomacy: Zero. She wonders if she could get extra credit for a field trip to a foreign state. Asgardian anthropology can’t be that different. 

-

When she finds the kitchen, she almost walks directly into Sif, who has the temerity to look bright and cheerful and not-at-all hungover. 

“I must apologise for last night, my friend,” she says. 

“No, no,” says Darcy. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got to, uh-” Okay, so she’s not sure what she’s sorry for though she knows she’s not sorry for some stuff, like impure thoughts or whatever. 

“The mead rather went to my head,” says Sif. “I promise I intended only to close my eyes but ‘ere I knew it, it was broad daylight.”

“Oh thank fuck.” 

Sif looks mildly confused.

“I just - oh god, I’m sorry,” says Darcy. “I just. I thought I’d, maybe, you know-” 

Sif doesn’t look any less confused and Darcy wonders if the babelfish is failing, or the all-spark or whatever it is that lets Asgardians understand languages. “Look,” says Darcy. “I was just really worried, I’d, you know. Taken advantage or something.”

With a laugh, Sif shakes her head and that is definitely understanding dawning. “Lady Darcy,” she says, kind of seriously, though her eyes are doing that sparkle-thing. “I can promise you that I am perfectly well able to, ah, protect my own honour.” 

“Thank fuck,” says Darcy, agreeably. 

“Would you like to take advantage?” asks Sif and Darcy’s eyes fly wide open. Sarcasm is something that non-Loki Asgardians do not seem to practice so Darcy figures that Sif is being serious. Well. Darcy can be serious too.

“If I’d met you in, you know, other circumstances,” she says. “You know. Less exile and dependence. Well. Screen-doors and hurricanes.” 

Sif tilts her head to the side. Her fingers close around Darcy’s wrist, barely brushing her skin.

“I mean, yes,” says Darcy. 

“You asked what we did for fun,” says Sif and she’s awfully close now. She crooks a finger under Darcy’s chin and Darcy has to look up at her. “We fight, as you have seen,” says Sif. “And we eat, and we drink.”

Darcy nods, the movement restricted by Sif’s finger. 

“ _And_?” she tries to ask but her throat is dry and she can’t even blame her hangover. 

“Yes,” says Sif. “We warriors have been known to lie together-”

“We warriors-” echoes Darcy and she huffs out a gasp as Sif lifts her up onto the nearest table and comes to stand between her thighs. 

Darcy’s feeling kind of brave now. Maybe she is more warrior than she thought. She leans close and her lips touch Sif’s just briefly and this is a new kind of electricity. 

“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” she whispers. “But I’m pretty much invincible with an RV and a taser.” 

-

“I think you broke Erik,” says Jane, a few days later, when they’re back on Earth and the evil scientists have been rounded up and sent to evil scientist rehab. 

“How’s that?” asks Darcy, deliciously boneless and relaxed.

“They’re already singing songs about you,” says Jane. “On _Asgard_. Lady Darcy who lays all warriors low, with mechanical monsters and lightning bolts and -” Jane goes a little pink. 

“Tell me!” says Darcy. She claps her hands.

Jane coughs two words. 

Darcy lies back on the couch and she knows she looks smug. “Oh yeah. Mechanical monsters and lightning bolts and creamy thighs.” 

“Please stop,” says Jane, covering her face with her hands. 

“Don’t worry, doc,” says Darcy. “You stick to science-ing and I’ll stick to warrior-ing and what happens on Asgard, stays on Asgard. At Asgard?”


End file.
